


viral

by elisela



Series: southpaw [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 02:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29992647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisela/pseuds/elisela
Summary: Stiles gets mic'd for a game.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: southpaw [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014576
Comments: 5
Kudos: 148





	viral

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spinningincircles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinningincircles/gifts).



> The usual disclaimer that I sent the love of my life a TikTok and she in turn said "okay but write it" and I did. At least I kept it under 1k!

“Oh, I’m mic’d up, this is gonna be great,” Stiles says, body twisting at the waist, and Derek watches as he rotates as far to the left as he can before moving back to center, bending down to touch his toes, and then starting the process again on the right. He reaches out as he turns this time, quick as a flash, slapping Scott on the ass. “Hey Scotty, isn’t this great?”

“Ten bucks says it’s the first and last time,” Scott says; his voice is muffled, but Derek can hear him, and the forced exhalation he makes after Stiles hits him again. He’s ready to close the video—he loves Stiles, but he hears him ramble enough when he’s at home—but Allison had sent it to him so he takes his thumb off the screen, figuring there was a reason.

“That’s rude, you—” there’s a beep and Derek can’t help but shake his head as Stiles looks around guiltily for the camera. “Whoops. Sorry! Hey, Scott, let’s go to that place for breakfast tomorrow, the one with the french toast that you can get dipped in cereal? Derek likes that place—hey, what do you think he’s doing right now? He’d already left for work when we got home this morning. Derek,” he sings suddenly, head tipping up like he’s howling at the moon, “I miss yoooooooou.”

After that, it’s fairly obvious why Allison sent him the video—

—Stiles, laying on his back in the outfield grass with Isaac pressing his legs in towards his body: “Dude we should _totally_ get tattoos in the off-season! Jacks won’t but I bet Scotty would—Derek would kill me if it was Mets related so obviously we’re all going to pretend it is—oh hey, do you think it’s too cheesy for people to get matching tattoos?”

—drumming on the bench in the bullpen, head bopping along to the rhythm he’s making up: “So he’s all ‘you have to find the median of the upper and lower half of the data’ and all I’m doing is imagining all the parents who are gonna watch this damn video 97 times and still not understand a word he says because his _face_ , his _face is right there_ , with his glasses and his beard is starting to get the tiniest bit of grey in it and—”

—tossing a ball back and forth with Parrish: “You think he’d like that? He was pretty bummed when his mom told us they were going to be traveling over Thanksgiving. I was thinking about doing a surprise Mexico trip but you’re probably right, Derek would still like to go to the cabin—hey, text me tomorrow to make sure I call his mom—”

Derek is all Stiles talks about. Throughout the whole game, from the warm-ups to the last pitch and his walk across the field to get to the dugout, it’s Derek, Derek, Derek. He’s watching for the fourth time when he hears the door open and Stiles’ backpack hit the ground with a thud; he closes the video, locks his phone, and tilts his head up to look behind the couch just as Stiles walks out of the hallway. 

“Hey, babe,” he says, bracing his hands on the couch on either side of Derek’s head and leaning down, kissing Derek’s cheek. “What do you want for dinner? I’m starving.”

Derek reaches up and cups his hand around the back of Stiles’ neck to hold him there, turning his head to kiss him properly. “I already ordered burgers,” he says when he lets Stiles go, trying not to melt into the couch when Stiles’ hands come up into his hair, fingers kneading at his scalp. He sinks down a little and closes his eyes, just breathing as Stiles massages the tension from his day away. “I hear we’re going to the cabin for Thanksgiving,” he says, and Stiles laughs.

“You saw the video? Lydia’s thrilled, it’s everywhere. She’s been getting interview requests all day,” Stiles says, fingernails scraping down his neck before he pushes himself over the top of the couch and flops down beside Derek, pointing up at him. “I’m the new bisexual icon.”

“That,” Derek says, pointing back at him, “is very frightening.”

“Jackass, that’s what Jackson said,” Stiles says, swatting him in the stomach with the back of his hand before twisting and laying with his head in Derek’s lap. Derek slides one of his hands onto his chest, resting it above Stiles’ heart and starts running the other through his hair. “Does it bother you?”

He frowns. “That you talked about me so much you went viral? Why should that bother me?”

“You’re pretty private,” Stiles says, looking up at him. “I didn’t realize I talked about you quite that much, but Isaac uh, Isaac said that was a pretty typical rest day.”

Derek squeezes him the best he can with Stiles laying in his lap. “Doesn’t bother me,” he says. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Scott was right. That’s the last time anyone puts a mic on you.”


End file.
